


The Crowd

by Ghostcat



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Fleet Week, Fluff, Genteel Smut, In a Car, Logan in a Uniform, Make-outs, Post-Movie, Reunion, Smooching, because that should be a tag that exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1922745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Unexpectedly, their 180 days became slightly more than that. A case took her out of town and they’ll have to wait just a little longer. But what is a couple of extra days? Compared to everything that is them?</em>   Of course, Logan Echolls should know by now how crafty an impatient Veronica Mars can be.</p><p>A Fleet Week fantasia, post-movie, inevitable AU, shameless good times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilamadison11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilamadison11/gifts).



> Happiest of birthdays to the lovely T aka [lilamadison11](http://www.lilamadison11.tumblr.com)! I hope you like this limp sparrow of a gift! I've been working on it for way too long and it's still not done but your birthday is here and I couldn't hold on to it.
> 
> Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars do not belong to me, they belong to Rob Thomas.
> 
> My apologies to [dansunedisco](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco) and [cupcakesandtv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkei/pseuds/crystalkei). I fudged some Fleet Week details for my own nefarious purposes. I hope you forgive me for this one. I swear that the series will stick closer to the facts.
> 
> Thank you to [blithers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blithers/pseuds/blithers) for being kind enough to look over an early draft of this. You are a wonderful beta, your insights and suggestions are always invaluable.

The tiny triangular flags strung up above the street flap and flutter rhythmically in the wind. He loves hearing that noise early in the morning, before the crowds gather, the anticipation it brings. Later in the day, after the morning events and the community meet and greet, the buzz of music and people on the street overtakes it and he has to remind himself to look up. Look up and remember the sound of the start.

(Unexpectedly, their 180 days became slightly more than that. A case took her out of town and they’ll have to wait just a little longer. But what is a couple of extra days? Compared to everything that is them? He’ll see her tomorrow.)

Lt. Logan Echolls dutifully poses for a photograph with three girls, sisters from the looks of things. They appear to range in age from fifteen to twelve and are wonderful studies in contrast. The tallest one is trying to come across as over it, but it doesn’t jibe with the way her lips keep pulling upwards nervously, as if she still deciding on her level of excitement. She plays with her purse strap and avoids his eyes. The middle one, skinny, silvery retainer flashing, talks to him earnestly about how grateful she is for his service. The smallest, dark-eyed and serious, probably older than she looks, shows him the pictures she’s taken on her camera phone and whispers that he’s her favorite so far. That makes him laugh.

It feels good, this. He never thought he’d like it. He used to be paranoid about the event, see paparazzi in every smiling, flag-waving family but he’s over it finally. Like Pipes says, “Fleet Week, Mouth. It’s a party. Just pose, smile, and say ‘Thank you’. Even your tiny little peanut head should be able to comprehend what graciousness is.” Her attack on that word, gray-shuss-ness, was crisp and stern, but paired with her large, gap-toothed smile on the ending letter, it read like what it was- affection and belief.

A shiny stripe of bare skin catches his eye at 9 o’clock. It’s familiar, something about the calf, the angle of the ankle, leaning inwards, insouciantly. His eyes linger on the feet. Ankle boots, which he’s never liked but the slight peek of a white sock at the tops is making him rethink that opinion. Back to the calf, smooth, then the knees and BOOM, his jaw drops and all the blood in his body just shoots straight to his dick. Luckily, he’s got his hat in his hands. He covers up just in time to catch a brilliantly white crescent of teeth and the whirr of her camera.

“I’ve always wanted a horndog of my very own. Finally, photo proof of your ogling.”

He can only smile. Like an idiot.

Veronica looks at the screen and thumbs the arrow buttons, looking through the photos, adopting a serious air. “You know, Lieutenant. I could be mistaken, but I think you might’ve actually recognized me by my legs. Is that possible?”

Logan smiles wider and finds his voice, in his head, one word after the other, in crooked, jumbled sequence. He looks down at the ground, aims for bashful dickishness. The stuff that makes her jaw drop and her eyes glitter. “What can I say? I’ve been studying your legs since '01.”

She laughs softly. _Good. It landed._

He makes his way towards her, mirroring her casualness. Veronica leans forward on the divider, crosses her arms and tilts her head. “See, I don’t know if that’s sweet or creepy or both.”

The necklace she’s wearing dips into her cleavage, a dull glint against the red flush of her sternum, the paler cream and pink of her breasts.

He’s not going to make it to the bar. He won't. A few steps closer and he’s in front of her.

Her hair is shorter than the last time he saw her. And blonder. She’s wearing a dark blue summer dress dotted with flecks of color with a dull gray leather jacket thrown over it. (Because of course she is. She’s always cold. Even now, on a warm, late October day with a sky that’s perfect blue as far as the eye can see, she'll be using him as a buffer against the breeze in no time.)

She’s so pretty, suffused in color, brighter somehow than when they last parted. Everything about her presence is making him dizzy, the tantalizing glimpses of skin visible as she shifts her weight, her vibrancy. He reaches out automatically for her hand. She gives it to him and just like that, he's touching Veronica Mars. She’s here, in front of him. Incredible. He can’t quite believe it. Her hand is soft in his, he rubs his thumb on her palm, then her wrist. He’s horribly nervous and excited and it takes her whistling for him to notice that he hasn’t been saying anything. He’s just been standing in front of her, a crowd divider between them, holding her hand. He wants to turn around, go back, a mile away or across the street so he can get a running start, swoop in, and swing her around and around, kissing her. He wants to kiss her. He should kiss her. Is he allowed to kiss her?

“This is a nice surprise. How did you find me?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to go soft, but he so badly wants to touch more of her, his voice beats him to it, it’s a caress. Her eyes flutter a bit, they way they do when she’s almost his, then turn, narrowing sharply, wicked smile firmly place. Whatever’s coming, it will be funny, it will be sharp, and he will love it.

“I can always find you.”

 _Huh._ He's playing it cool the way she’s playing it cool so he schools his features back to placid, allows himself a small smirk as punctuation. The ellipsis to Veronica’s questioning look.

“How long have you been here?” He looks around, making himself breathe evenly and contain his smile to manageable proportions.

“Long enough to see that you are a great little model. I got some superb shots of you posing with civilians. You could stand to work on your focus though. You seem preoccupied...”

Logan looks down at her feet. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She touches his chest candy with her free hand, a slow, smooth finger swipe across the reds and the blues and the golds. “So were you going somewhere, buddy?”

He sighs. “I’m supposed to meet my cohort at Jimmy’s.”

“Ooh, will Pipes be there?”

“Yes.” He’s not sure if introducing those two via Skype had been a good idea but it’s too late to worry about that now.

“I don't say this about too many people but... I like her,” Veronica says. Her fingers have moved on to his buttons, the dark nail polish stark against the gold and white of his uniform.

He squeezes her free hand. “The feeling is mutual.”

She digs her nails into his palm. He _should_ flinch but it’s so _her_ that he's come to associate it with affection. He ducks down to nip at her hand and she squeals. They’ve cleaned up nice, they really have, but he loves these ticking time bomb reminders. _Still a little bit fucked up, in all the good ways_ he thinks gleefully, with a single, upwards bounce.

“Wait a second, mister. You said _supposed_ to.”

“Yes,” he grins.

“But you-- _we’re_ not going to.” Veronica draws it out, playing along. She knows it’s a game, her eyes have gone too dark and knowing to pass for coy.

He pretends to think about it. “Mmm. No, I don’t think so. Not with the current state of events.” His fingers are rubbing the pulse of her wrist now.

“Where are we going?” She’s leaning slightly, towards him. That’s his go command.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s no answer but it kinda is too. Either way, it’s the best he can do.

Veronica nods yes.

He’s managed to work his hand way up to her elbow. They both lean in that extra little bit and finally kiss, softly, tentatively. There’s a shimmer to it. He hadn’t expected this, he thought they would come together with exuberance, with a bang, the kind that clears a radius around impact. But it’s like they’re holding themselves back to keep from exploding, in a gradual release of tension. Every slow second of this drags, stamping itself into his brain so he can remember it when he needs to. Kiss, hands, words. I love her. I’ve missed her. Show her.

She disengages first, clears her throat and taps on his sunglasses with a fingernail. He takes them off and puts them in her purse pocket. He locks eyes with her again, her gaze darts all over his face. He can practically hear her brain hum. She must like what she sees because she rewards him with that one-sided smile. She looks down pointedly between them.

“Well, we have this big bad crowd divider here…”

He jumps over it easy, landing soft in front of her. Her mouth drops and her eyes narrow in appreciation. Veronica Mars, always a sucker for a flashy move.

“Hi,” she says, her voice breathless.

“Hey.”

He tenderly tickles her cheek with his fingers. She closes her eyes and sighs and there it is. The green light. This is good. This is great.

“Come here,” she commands, rising up on her toes.

“Yeah,” he whispers back as he slides his hand up her arm, across her shoulder and up the nape of her neck, spreading out his fingers into her hair.

His hands are full of her: hair, back and dress fabric. He pushes the material around, a circle on her skin, feeling her bones distantly underneath as their kiss deepens, darkens sweetly. He smells her perfume, something new and fresh, then realizes it’s just her, her skin, sunblock and sun, in a swirl of heat and proximity. And she is right there, her tongue in his mouth, lip gloss stick and fruit gum, connecting all points. Chest meeting ribs and knees against thighs. The hollows where their bodies meet and move, flow against. Veronica is like water, always has been. All-encompassing, alternately smooth and tempestuous, kicking his ass or calming him to nothingness, movement and renewal. His arms have gone tight around her and he can’t help it, he leans her back, puts some motion into it, and when she groans, small, breathy, he almost forgets that there's anyone else in the world.

The sounds of giggling makes them stop and pull apart, not completely but enough. The three girls from before stand there. The smallest one has her camera phone up, biting her tongue in concentration. “Sorry, you guys look so cool. Like, couple in a movie cool.”

“Oh my god, Lupe. So embarrassing.” The eldest grabs the youngest’s arm to pull her away but she wiggles easily out of her grasp.

Veronica smiles at the girl with the iPhone. “Can I see?”

The girl passes her the phone and Veronica grins at the image. Her fingers play on the surface and he hears the telltale woosh. She must’ve sent it to herself. Veronica hands it back.

“Thank you, Lupe. You have a good eye.”

Logan laughs softly and shakes his head. She probably means it. And he’ll never see that photo.

The sisters walk away, elbowing each other, occasionally sneaking glances back at them as they make their way over to another throng of patriotic well-wishers waving flags. The celebratory atmosphere is contagious and now, heightened, because him and his girl are in the same place at the same time and when she smiles, there is no lag, no computer screen between them, just her laugh, the way it catches when she’s really happy.

“Veronica Mars, sap,” he mutters and steps to the side quickly, away from her fast fist. She hits her target anyway and he rubs the spot out of happy habit. It doesn't hurt a bit.

“You were saying?” she says, sidling up to him.

He puts his arm around her, bends down, and slides the tip of his nose up her neck, whispering in her ear, enjoying her shiver. “I want to fuck you hard. Preferably within the next ten minutes. I don’t care where.”

“Lt. Echolls. That might be misconstrued as conduct unbecoming to an officer.”

“Only if I keep the uniform on. And we do this publicly.”

She lowers her voice, a whisper in the crowd. “So if you lose the uniform and we find some secluded corner?”

“Could work. But we’d have to be quiet. Not call attention to ourselves.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” Veronica murmurs.

“No.”

“It’s too bad aaaaaaall the hotel rooms in San Diego are booked right now. I had big plans for you.” She turns away from him thoughtfully, keeping one arm around him and reaching down with the other to pull up the skirt of her dress and scratch at her thigh. Her skin looks so soft there, he just wants to put his face on it. She laughs and he tears his eyes away from the spot to look up at her.

“That wasn’t provocation, pal. I have a mosquito bite.” She swats his arm but leaves her hand where it lands, languidly rubbing his tricep up and down.

He straightens his back and breathes in on a slow five-count. “Veronica. I will go into the nearest store, buy a touristy t-shirt and shorts, change into them, and service you in some darkened corner if I have to. I don’t care. Such is my need.”

“Really? Do I have a say in the outfit? What if the t-shirt said: You Stay Classy, San Diego?”

“I’d wear it.”

“Or Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner?”

“Yes. Because I would never,” he says seriously.

“Teeny tiny ball hugging shorts?” She tiptoes up, her lips soft on his neck.

“Yes,” he says, his face knotting into a grimace of reluctance. Knowing Veronica, she’d somehow find a way to make this happen. And document it.

“You’d do all that for that chance to get between my milky thighs in some darkened alley?”

His eyes snap to hers intently. “Oh, yes.”

Veronica rewards him with her widest smile. “Did you miss me?”

She tilts her head, then leans back slightly, exposing the soft, tender line of her neck. He can’t help himself, he brings his hand up and runs his thumb up the column of it slowly. She swallows thickly under it.

“Yes,” he breathes.

“How much? Enough to skip the adulation of the American public?”

“Yes. Well, some. I can’t deny them the privilege of me for too long. They might riot.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Umm, I’m done with my obligations for the day but I’ve got watch tomorrow from 6:00 until 14:00,” he mumbles apologetically.

“Okay but during your off hours… You gonna be my hired muscle?”

He raises his eyebrows and looks down at her feet. “Yes.”

“Keep saying yes.”

“Yes.” He ducks down and kisses her again, flittingly light, stepping back before she can deepen it. She stares at him, her mouth open and her teeth slightly bared. Ah, the wild Veronica. This is the best kind of problem.

She takes his hand and pulls him through the throngs, the crowd parting for them as if they’re victors and they are in a way. He feels hands on his arm, slapping him there in thanks, he sees it in people’s eyes as he passes, the gratitude, the pride. He lets the elation of this moment wash over him, lets it settle as he never has before, with an enormous face-cracking grin on his face. Veronica pulls him along purposively, through several turns, until they’re finally alone on a quiet side street. His car, their car, is there. The top is up. She came prepared.

Veronica reads his mind. “I was going to have my way with you right here but I thought that might be a problem. So we’re going to go to the economical but clean hotel room I had the wherewithal to book and you’re going to keep your hands to yourself the whole way there. On your lap where I can see ‘em. Do you understand, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Get in. I’m driving.”

Logan skips around to the passenger side, well and truly _skips_ , and slides in. Before he can even get his seatbelt on, she’s on him, scrambling onto his lap, pushing herself down hard. They kiss, wildly, a mad tangle of hair (hers) and mouths (both) and hands (oh yes). They’re trembling, but she is more so and she brings her hands up to his head, he doesn’t have enough hair for her to pull, but she anchors herself there anyway, her fingers wide against the fuzz of his scalp. After a half a minute or so of this focused grinding, back and forth, she lets out a surprised sounding series of small gasps. Like smoke rings. They pant, forehead to forehead. She shakes her head against his. He pulls back to look at her and her cheeks are red and she’s so fucking beautiful with her eyes shut tight. He kisses around the little lines in their corners, marks of laughter that he’s missed and wants to consume, taste their finely spun sugar.

“Well, that’s never happened to me before,” she says, breathless and perky and not the slightest bit apologetic.

He remembers differently but knows he doesn’t have to say anything about it, she’ll read it on him like always. Sure enough, she narrows her eyes, gives his cheek a light double slap, kisses him hard, and slides off his lap, primly adjusting her skirt. He huffs out a laugh and looks around aimlessly. His hands fly up to his head to ruffle hair that isn’t there, something he hasn’t done in years but time spent with Veronica tends to bring up old responses. He lets his fingers fall on the car window. She’s going to have him drawing hearts on it in a minute.

Veronica leans forward on the steering wheel, her head turned to his, a ribbon of a smile unfurling across her face. “Just wanted a sip, Sailor. You’re my first Fleet Week pick-up. This is something of a momentous occasion in a So Cal gal’s life.” She squeezes his knee. “Psst. I brought you some civvies, got 'em from Dick's. The sacrifices I make for you.”

“Yeah.” He adjusts his pants and throws his head back on the car seat, casting a small heated glare in her direction.

Veronica finally looks a tiny bit contrite but she’s still smiling. “I’m sorry.” She leans over and kisses him, pausing to nibble on his bottom lip until he grumbles a bit in frustration. “Hey. I’ll return the favor with interest. That’s a promise.”

“Veronica.”

“Yeah?”

He speaks slowly because the air traveling through his lungs is coming through ragged and sharp from hope and want. He speaks slowly because otherwise it's gonna be his turn to tear her buttons and he doubts Veronica can sew half as well as he can. He speaks slowly because he knows what he wants to do to her but is still finding the words. He's feeling around in the dark. He speaks.

“I need us to get to that hotel room so I can lock the door and open you up.”

“Yes, sir.” She grins, a spectacular, wondrous fireworks display, and salutes, which shouldn’t do anything for him given the sheer amount of time he spends doing it but… as always with Veronica, she’s the outlier. He might ask her to do it again later. In his hat. And nothing else.

It's a fifteen minute drive, she does it in half the time. He keeps his hands to himself. Just barely.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: @ghostcat3000


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